


A Matter of Convenience

by ShitpostingfromtheBarricade



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't copy to another site, Enjolras POV, Established Relationship, Fake Marriage, I never thought I'd write one of these ngl, M/M, So here we are, but I also never thought i'd find myself writing gay fanfic, trope in name alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 05:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19266727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade/pseuds/ShitpostingfromtheBarricade
Summary: It's not like Grantaire had any actual plans to enter into a real marriage anyway...Warnings:arguing





	A Matter of Convenience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PieceOfCait](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PieceOfCait/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Cait! I didn't bother lying to you this time, but I'm not sure if I quite managed "oblivious." Anyway, I hope this brings you joy. :) There's only one "just," and that was no accident.
> 
> One thousand thanks to [RustLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustlight/pseuds/rustlight/works) for looking over this for me and giving me so much awesome feedback! (even if I rejected every suggestion to delete my double-spaces out of some misplaced affection for them)

“So. You and Ép are getting married.” Enjolras watches Grantaire look up from where he has parked himself at the counter. 

“Yep.”

“Were you planning on telling me?”

Pouring a bowl of cereal with overcomfortable nonchalance, Grantaire shrugs. “If it came up.” 

Enjolras fights to keep his agitation controlled. “It didn’t occur to you that, perhaps, a wedding is something worth mentioning to your partner of nearly three years? Particularly a wedding to someone who is not your aforementioned partner?”

The milk is returned to the fridge. “Figured you wouldn’t mind. I mean, what’s a marriage between two friends where social justice is involved, am I right?”

Whether Grantaire genuinely can’t understand the gravity of the situation or is actually choosing to be this difficult is beyond Enjolras right now. “You figured I 'wouldn’t mind' my boyfriend getting married without telling me?”

A mouthful of cereal is chewed with infuriating easiness before the response comes. “Ép’s parents challenged her custody over Gav, and her lawyer told her that a common-law marriage would assure that any legal footing they might have had is null and void. I was there, and it’s not like my marital status was going anywhere fast.”

Which is true—was true, anyway: Enjolras has always made his feelings on marriage extremely clear, and Grantaire has always been okay with that. Or at least, that’s what Enjolras had thought.

Unclenching his fists to flex his fingers, Enjolras breathes in deeply once, twice, three times before speaking again. “So why did I find out from Joly instead of you?”

“The timing was—look, is this bothering you? I figured you’d be happy to find that I had an ounce of social justice in my body. Proud, even.”

“And what about you engaging in a government-sanctioned, outdated cultural pageant-act with someone you’re not even romantically involved with is supposed to make me ‘proud’?” Enjolras has been trying to keep his voice steady and even, but he hears it raising as he loses the last shreds of his patience. He stands, wracked by the need to move.

“Taking advantage of the system to help those in need?” his boyfriend answers incredulously. “Come on Enj, you and Ferre almost got married in uni to make a statement about predatory student loans.”

“While both of us were single!”

Grantaire huffs. “Fine! Once Ép’s paperwork is finalized we’ll file for divorce.”

Enjolras’s gut goes icy. 

_“You already got married?”_

“Time was of the essence, we didn’t have a choice. Baz drew up prenups, it shouldn’t be—”

“Bahorel was involved? Oh, and what, I suppose you got Combeferre officiate?”

Grantaire’s silence speaks volumes.

A hysterical laugh looses itself from Enjolras’s lips. “And was anyone going to tell me? Me, who should have been the first to know?” 

“Enj, I—”

“Since apparently you weren’t.” He shakes his head. “God, Grantaire, of all of the reckless, short-sighted, _ridiculous_ things you’ve done—”

“Things _I’ve_ done?” scoffs Grantaire, abandoning his unfinished cereal to move around the counter toward Enjolras. “Go on, tell me how using my inconsequential marital status to assure that my _best friend_ doesn’t lose her little brother to their asshole abusive parents is more reckless than you attending those rallies I beg you not to go to—you know, the ones that never have sympathetic police presence? Or you repeatedly antagonizing those politicians who everybody knows aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty? Even your staunch refusal to get more than five Goddamned hours of sleep a night and eat proper meals, for fuck’s sake Enjolras!”

“Is that what this, then?” Enjolras seethes. “Some kind of—revenge? A way to get even with me?”

“No!” Grantaire throws his hands up in exasperation. “Fucking Christ, no Enjolras! It’s me trying to live my Goddamned life!” His shoulders give an exasperated shrug as he huffs. “I don’t know why you’re being like this. I get that I should have told you, and I’m sorry about that, but it feels like this is about something else. I mean, you’re the one always railing against the entire marital system and its antiquated _everything_.”

The urge to grab his boyfriend by the shoulders in an attempt to literally shake some sense into him is narrowly sidestepped. “Do you even understand what being married entails? It’s not just custody and taxes: if you go to the hospital, she’ll have priority to see you over anyone else. If anything happens to Éponine or Gavroche, the legal responsibilities fall on your shoulders. Can you imagine if you were in an accident and Éponine’s decisions about your treatment superseded my own? If she was the only person allowed in the room following a procedure?”

“So you don’t want to marry me, but you won’t let me offer my marital benefits to others in need because, what? You’re worried that Ép wouldn’t take your input into consideration in case of a medical emergency? Which, mind you, nurses already wouldn’t do because _you and I aren’t legally bound to one another_.”

Something final in Enjolras snaps, a sound akin to a roar tearing out of his throat. “Is it really so wrong that I don’t want my boyfriend married to someone who isn’t me?” he demands, raw desperation creeping into his voice. “Does my decision not to get married really forfeit my right to be upset when others think you’re in a relationship with someone else?” Tears prick at his eyes as he falls back onto the sofa and shoves his hands into his hair, yanking at it furiously. It does nothing to ease his frustration. “Can we at least pretend that I’m allowed to have feelings about any of this?”

He isn’t sure how much time passes before he feels a weight settle down beside him. Arms wrap around Enjolras, a dark mass of curls pressing into the joint between his shoulder and neck.

“You’re right, and...and I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you instead of assuming you wouldn’t care.”

“I’m not a robot,” Enjolras manages, voice not nearly as steady as he’d hoped.

“I know, and it was shitty of me to boil your opinion down to your social justice platform. I should know better by now.” 

The quiet stretches, Grantaire rubbing circles on Enjolras’s back as he recollects himself. 

“Are you really that bothered by my not wanting to get married?”

“No.” The gentle tracing on his back doesn't falter for even a fraction of a second. “I know you have your reasons.” 

“We could, if you really want. Someday. If it’s that important to you, it can be on the table.” 

He looks up at his boyfriend, who appears momentarily startled before his features return to a more relaxed smile.

“I won’t pretend it doesn’t make me happy to hear, because it does—hell, I didn’t even realize what a relief it’d be to hear you say until the words were already out of your mouth,” Grantaire admits. “But also, I’m not really interested. At least, not until it’s something you want for you, should ever such a time arise.”

Relief courses through Enjolras as he lets his head lean against his boyfriend’s. An undercurrent of anxiety still lies low in his stomach, but with his other emotions finally resuming a semblance of stability it seems much more manageable now.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” he murmurs. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” Grantaire nuzzles closer. “And I hope you understand that this with Éponine wasn’t anything personal. It wasn’t meant to be some fucked-up revenge on you for not wanting to get married.”

“Yeah.” 

Pulling his legs over Grantaire’s, Enjolras turns and presses his face against the man’s chest with a sigh. “How long will it take for the paperwork to go through?”

“What, for the custody? Or the divorce?”

The divorce. “Both?”

Grantaire hums. “Baz said that Ép’s paperwork should be finalized in the next two weeks. Divorces can take anywhere from six weeks to twelve months, though, even with the prenup.”

Pushing his face deeper into his boyfriend’s shoulder, Enjolras groans. “I might have to date a married man for _a whole year?”_

Grantaire chuckles. “I’m pretty sure we don’t have to say I’m married. It’ll stay between you, me, God, the government, and the Amis.”

Enjolras glares through his curls at his boyfriend. “So everyone.”

“Not your parents.”

He groans again, attempting to bury his face even deeper into Grantaire’s chest. They stay pressed together a while longer before a niggling concern in the back of Enjolras’s mind rears back up, manifesting itself in a small voice. 

“Did Ferre really officiate?” 

Grantaire’s head shakes against his. “He was Ép’s witness, though. If it makes you feel any better, I think he thought I’d run it by you already and gotten your okay. Pretty sure it’s against the Bromandments to officiate your best friend’s boyfriend’s wedding to someone else anyway; Baz did the honors—and I’ll thank you to remember that Bahorel was helping a friend in need and did what he could to make it as painless a process as possible.”

Despite grumbles, Enjolras does quietly resolve not to hold the entire situation against their friends too much. “And Gav? Everything’s taken care of after this?”

“Even after our divorce, his parents won’t have any legal claim anymore—he’s all Ép’s. And ours, I guess, but we’re his godparents, so we were already saddled with him.”

Enjolras sits up to shove at Grantaire’s arm with a snort. “You adore him.”

Grantaire shrugs, smirking. “I guess I did get married for him.” He pauses for a beat. “Holy fuck, I’m married. I have a child. I’m a _father_.” He gives Enjolras a panicked look. “I’m not ready to be a father. I’m not even ready to be an adult.”

Laughter bursts forth from Enjolras’s lips as he pulls Grantaire into a hug and presses a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple. “I have a feeling you’ll figure it out somehow. We’ll figure it out together.”

**Author's Note:**

> The divorce laws are either American or Australian, I can't remember; ten seconds of google searching says that in France a mutual divorce can take as little as 3-6 months, and in the UK you're looking at 4-6 months. As such, my money's on America.
> 
> I really, really love comments and feedback, so if you feel so inclined, feel free to share your thoughts below or at my [tumblr](http://shitpostingfromthebarricade.tumblr.com).


End file.
